


Home.

by poeticxllypxthetic



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 14:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14114754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticxllypxthetic/pseuds/poeticxllypxthetic
Summary: Just a little boy on his birthday, gets tattos, emotional conflict and Chuck bullying Fry





	1. Drown.

Newt was sat on his windowsill when he heard the front door quietly click open. Minho was already asleep, despite it only being 10:30pm. Newt’s legs had gone numb. He spread them out in front of him, rubbing them to bring the life back into them. He had watched the sun set and the moon rise, all from his windowsill. He wanted to be alone. He still hadn’t figured out how he could feel homesick when he didn’t have a place to call home anymore. His bedroom door opened, jarring him from his thoughts. The silhouette of his best friend against the amber light of the landing, brought him back to earth with a thump.  
“Hey buddy, you fine?” Tommy. The last person he needed to see. Maybe he was part of the problem.  
“I fine. You're home from work late, what happened?” Newt smiled despite himself. It was strange how Thomas could coax words from his lungs with so little effort.  
“Ava. She wanted me to close up the Cafe for her, said she had something to deal with” Newt moved his legs, making space for Thomas to sit. Newt noticed their thighs were almost touching. Newt moved up, embarrassed by the close proximity with his best and ,perhaps, only friend. “Have you eaten? I can whip us up some pancakes if you want?” Thomas sounded worried. Newt could tell by the way his voice cracked at the end of his sentence. Why did it hurt so much for Newt to hear?  
“Tommy it is literally half ten at night, and you want to make breakfast?” Newt smiled at Thomas, trying to rub reassurance back into his heart.  
“My friend, it is breakfast somewhere in the world, no reason why it can’t be here too”. Thomas looked happy, his smile caught in the moonlight.  
“This is why your bursary doesn’t go very far” Newt grumbled, but he still stood up to follow Thomas. He pulled an oversized hoodie over his t-shirt and boxers, and walked into the kitchen, where thomas was mixing flour with milk.  
Fifteen stressful minutes later, and several blackened pancakes disposed of, the two boys sat on the balcony, the cool night air, a plate of pancakes, a cup of tea and a packet of cigarettes sat in front of the two friends. They ate in silence. Newt loved Thomas, but found his constant questions bloody exhausting, especially on a saturday night. The city was alive, with teens and adults moving through the streets like blood cells through vital veins, wriggling through organ like pubs and nightclubs. Newt loved Boston. It had a pulse. It was alive. He looked at the night sky. It was the only constant thing Newt could find, especially since he had moved thousands of miles, from London to a new city, a new school, leaving everybody he had ever known behind. Home. It was still a place he couldn’t find.

It happened too fast. One minute Newt was looking at the sky, the next he was sat, tears rolling down his face, staring at the plate of barely touched pancakes in front of him. He felt strong arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him into Thomas’ chest. Tommy. His whole body shook with sobs. Thomas didn’t say anything, he just stroked Newt’s hair as he cried into his chest. It was the vulnerability Newt despised. There was a reason Newt had never cried in front of any of his friends since he moved to Boston six months ago. He didn’t like to show his emotions. His emotions were always so dark, and he didn’t want to bring any of his friends down with him. He had been diagnosed with depression when he was fifteen. It had been two years of feeling like he was drowning. After Newt’s sobs had died to gentle hiccups, it was Thomas who spoke first.  
“What can I do to make you feel better?” His voice was surprisingly gentle, barely audible over the gentle heartbeat of the surrounding city.  
Newt bit his lip. “Can you stay a while?” as soon as the words left his lips, he knew that was what he needed the most. Thomas wasn’t exactly his best friend, that would be Minho, but Minho was better at tough love, and Thomas’ gentle approach to the situation was exactly what he needed. Thomas nodded, while opening the box of cigarettes, offering one to Newt. He accepted, and flicked the lighter. Both lit their cigarettes, and sat in silence, Newt resting his head against Thomas’ shoulder, while they drank their tea. Newt pulled out his phone to check the time. 11:30pm.  
“Do you want to talk about it? The reason you cried, I mean?” Thomas was looking down at Newt, his eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the streetlights.  
“I will, but not yet. I feel like I have to work it out in my head first before i verbalise it, you know?”  
“That’s okay, shall we get to bed? I mean it’s late already and we have things to do tomorrow” Tomorrow. Newt had completely forgotten what was meant to occur tomorrow. Thomas grinned at his friends confusion. “Guess you’ll have to find out later then”. Newt smiled. He flicked his cigarette butt off the balcony onto the street below. He picked up the plates and cups and carried them into the kitchen. He could worry about them tomorrow. By the time he had washed his face and brushed his teeth, it was close to midnight. He got into bed. He felt better after crying. He closed his eyes, but his phone vibrated as he prepared to sleep. The screen lit up his face. 

Tommy: Happy 18th bud, can’t believe you forgot! Sleep well shank x

Newt smiled, and closed his eyes.


	2. Good Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little boy on his birthday, gets tattos, emotional conflict and Chuck bullying Fry

Newt woke up early the next morning, the crimson sky visible through his open window. He remembered the night before, that feeling of security while crying into Thomas’ shoulder. Newt couldn’t work out how he felt about Thomas. He knew they were best friends. That was all that mattered. Newt shrugged off the thought as he climbed out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, picking up jeans and a hoodie from the floor. He sat under the boiling water on the shower floor, looking at that angry red lines that littered his forearm and thigh. He could feel the sting of the water as they made contact. He concluded that last night had been particularly rough. He had no intention of slipping back into old habits.   
He walked into the kitchen holding a cigarette, to find Minho huddled over a cup of coffee, clearly still half asleep. Chuck bounced out of Frypan’s room, a look of mischief etched across his face.  
“Chuck what have you done now?” an exasperated voice came from the stove, Thomas making his second batch of pancakes in twelve hours.   
“Just watch” Chuck whispered, and right on cue, a loud bellow came from Frypan’s bedroom,   
“CHUCK YOU LITTLE SHIT”  
“Language Fry, you know the rules” Newt called out, laughing at the expense of his friend.  
“I put ice cubes into his shoes” Chuck was evidently proud of himself, but the look on his face changed to pure terror as Fry ran out of his bedroom and tackled him, landing on the couch. “I surrender, stop, stop I’m laughing too much, i’m gonna be sick”. Frypan released him from his grip and the two laughed on the floor, Fry giving Chuck a big brotherly hug.   
“Next time you try that, I won’t let go”.  
Newt poured a coffee into a mug, and walked out onto the balcony, the slight mist still lingering in the morning air. He pulled a cigarette out of the packet and flicked his lighter, producing sparks but no fire. It had run out of fluid. He swore. He turned to see Thomas holding out his lighter, a small smile on his face, dimples outlined on his cheeks. Newt took the lighter, and he noticed how Thomas’ fingers had lingered in his hand. He squeezed ever so slightly. Thomas looked away, his cheeks flushed. Newt turned away, lighting his cigarette, breathing in tobacco smoke and the morning air. Minho and Thomas joined him on the balcony, cigarettes in hand. Minho had showered and gotten dressed, and looked suitably awake now.   
“Hey Newt, we are taking you somewhere today, you don’t have plans do you?” A smirk plastered on Minho’s face. He was evidently in on Thomas’ plan.   
“Nah I’m free, you’re my only friends, innit.” The smirk was obvious now, Minho was proud of himself.  
“Well, we’d better bounce then, we’ll be late otherwise”. 

They walked slowly through the city, still dozy from the early morning. The pavements were empty. Veins without blood. The thought made Newt uncomfortable. He walked slowly, his limp causing him more pain that it had been recently. He didn’t know what hurt more, his leg injury or the memory of how he got it. They stopped suddenly, Newt walked straight into Minho unaware that they had arrived at their destination.   
“What’s wrong?” Newt asked, dread filling his heart.   
“We’re here you shank, what did you expect?” Minho was grinning ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with excitement.   
“There is literally nothing here. What are you on about?” Newt took in his surroundings, pushing his fringe out of his eyes in a vain attempt to find-  
It was there. The Glade Tattoo Parlour. He stared. They hadn’t. They couldn’t have. Minho patted his back, and pulled him across the road to the well lit shop. 

 

Newt looked through the tattoo ideas he had saved on his phone. He looked lovingly at the simple album cover of I Love You. by The Neighbourhood. The album that had kept him company through his move to Boston. Familiarity. He chose the symbol of the house, he showed it to the artist, a kind looking lady with tattoos lining her forearms. He felt the needle enter his skin. He thought of his biology class. Skin cells were long and thin, like plates of armour. It had protected him from so much these past couple months. Now it was just more personalised. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would have. He almost liked the gentle pinpricks of the tattoo being imprinted into his skin. Tattoo fever is definitely a thing, Newt thought.  
When Newt opened his eyes, the tattoo was finished. An upside-down house stood proudly on his forearm. Minho took Newt’s place in the chair, the word ‘HUMAN’ already marked onto his ribcage, ready for the artist to trace over. Newt noticed how his skin moved over his ribs as he breathed, the way there were three moles in a straight line that ran parallel with his collarbone. Newt turned away, face flushed, to help Thomas to pick his tattoo. Thomas was pale, and the fear was evident in his eyes.  
“You good Tommy? What you gonna get?” Newt hated seeing Thomas scared. It made him question himself.  
“I fine” Newt smiled, remembering the conversation they’d had the night before. “I’m thinking a question mark, to remind me to question everything.”  
“Yeah for some reason that seems fitting” a dry smile echoed over Thomas’ lips when Newt made the remark. Newt lowered his voice.  
“It doesn’t hurt Tommy. Just a fucking flesh wound innit?”  
“How fucking reassuring” Thomas grinned at Newt, making his insides tighten.  
“Thomas, we’re ready for you now” Newt followed Thomas’ gaze to the tattoo chair, where Minho was wrapping his tattoo in clingfilm, to stop the ink bleeding.  
Newt touched Thomas’ arm.   
“I’m here for you Tommy, whenever you’re ready”  
“Can I squeeze your hand, if it hurts”   
“Of course, if it helps”Newt followed Thomas to the chair, and he sat down while Thomas rolled up his sleeve of his sweater. And then it began. Thomas sat while his eyes shut tight, squeezing Newt’s hand, while Newt traced circles on his knuckles. Newt noticed Thomas’ breathing even out, felt his hand relax, and Newt felt Thomas’ fingers interlock with his own. A small smile was laced across his face like a spider web, fragile but beautiful while it lasted, the dimples in his cheeks just visible. Newt looked at the progress of the tattoo. It was the smallest out of Newt’s and Minho’s and it was almost complete. Newt looked up and Thomas, to find his eyes open looking back at him.  
“How you finding it, shank?” Minho had moved behind Newt without him noticing, and his loud comment made Newt jump out of his skin. Minho laughed and Newt’s reaction and Newt retaliated by gently punched him on the arm.  
“You’re all done!” make sure you don’t itch it, that will slow down the healing process” Thomas sat up, allowing his question mark to be covered in the same way as Minho’s and Newt’s.  
They grabbed their coats, and walked out of the shop, sunlight blinding as their eyes had become familiar with the gentle lighting of The Glade.

When they got home, Newt and thomas made a beeline for the packet of cigarettes left on the table, the name Minho written on the surface. They ignored this warning and took one each. It wasn’t like Minho was a cigarette saint either. They walked out to the balcony, Newt sat on the floor with his back against the wall. Thomas sat down next to him, and rested his head on Newt’s shoulder, hair tickling his cheek.  
“I was really scared, Newt. I am happy I did it but I was terrified.” Thomas’ voice broke as he spoke, emotions clogging his vocal chords.  
“I’m proud of you Tommy. You’re an amazing buddy” Newt put his arm around Thomas while he spoke.   
“I love you, Newt”  
“Right back at you Tommy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This originally was two separate chapters, but i liked the way it flowed more as the same chapter. I hope you enjoy!


	3. Science & Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s too much coffee and lots of feelings

Newt awoke to screaming. He stumbled out of bed, running to the door is just his shorts, almost sending Gally flying as he had clearly doing the same thing. The screaming was coming from Minho’s room. They threw the door open, and ran to his bed side, where they were joined by Chuck, Fry and Thomas. Minho was screaming at the top of his lungs, writhing in his bed. But he was still asleep. Newt grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, to no avail. An open water bottle flew past Newt’s head, smacking Mango directly in the nose. Water sprayed all over the bed sheets, cover both Newt and Minho. Minho sat both upright in bed, screaming subsided. Now gentle sobs wracked his body. Newt pulled Minho into his body, and stroked his hair as the strongest boy Newt knew splintered in his arms.   
“Give them some space guys” Tommy. As usual saying the right thing at the perfect time. Newt listened to his friends leave the room, the muffled ‘fuck’ as Chuck stubbed his toe, and the ‘go to bed shuck-face’ from Gally, providing an authority figure when it was most needed. Newt gently rocked Minho. Sleep embraced Minho quickly, the screaming apparently sapping any energy in his body. All the while Newt held him. Neither spoke, but Newt gently tucked Minho in when he fell asleep. Newt padded back to his room, to find Chuck, sitting on his windowsill, his small pudgy frame silhouetted against the moonlight. Newt walked over and sat next to him. Chuck wouldn’t meet his eyes, which was unlike him.   
“Chuckle what’s bothering you? It’s really late why aren’t you asleep?” Newt gently rubbed his shoulder.   
“What’s wrong with Min? Why was he screaming?” Chuck had concern dripping from his tongue, and tears dripping from his eyes.  
“I don’t know buddy, He will tell us when he is ready.”  
“Are all British people as bad at lying as you?” Chuck’s warm eyes had become hard, angry. “Whatever, just remember that just because I am younger than you doesn’t mean I can’t handle shit. I’m just as mature as you. Promise ickle Chuckie won’t get scared when his friend is screaming in his sleep.” Chuck stormed out of Newt’s bedroom, leaving Newt in a whirlwind of emotions. He did know why Minho was screaming. He also knew it was his fault. 

Newt sat on the edge of the world that night. Puddles, streetlights and relief lay four stories below him. He had been sat there for a nour already. He took a deep breath, and leaned forward out of the window. He felt a hand grab his jacket, yanking him back into his bedroom onto the floor. Minho stood over him, tears streaming down his face.   
“You are a fucking shank. You try a stunt like that again, I’ll catch you, so i can kill you myself” that was the first and last time Minho had cried in front of any of his friends. Nd Newt had promised to not say anything if Minho didn’t. They had kept it a secret. Neither was ready to tell the story. 

Newt was woken up on his windowsill the next morning, legs tucked underneath his body, his hair covering his eyes. A cup of coffee sat on his desk, with a piece of folded paper underneath it. 

I didn’t mean to get angry, I was just worried. I’m sorry. I made coffee for you.   
Love,  
Chuck

Newt smiled. That boy had a heart of gold. He grabbed a shirt and walked out into the hallway, pausing at Minho’s door. His gentle snores signified he had slept better. He walked into the kitchen to find Gally at with Chuck and Fry on the sofa, talking in low voices about Chucks English homework. It was a Sunday, and Chuck had left a four week assignment until the day before it’s due date to start it. He smiled, reminded of how Thomas approached his homework. Newt was always on top of homework, and his notes were always well organised.   
Newt walked to the balcony, and breathed in the morning air. His head was filled with thoughts, mostly negative ones. He needed Thomas. He needed to be held again. He ached for that feeling of comfort, security. He heard a church bell ringing out, signifying that the service would be starting soon. That’s when he made up his mind. 

Fifteen minutes later, Newt was walking through the empty streets, headphones in and cigarette in hand, walking to the church that stood proudly in the suburban streets of Boston. He had put on a t-shirt due to the warm weather, and his tattoo stood proudly against his skin. Eyes flicked towards him and his tattoo when he walked through the large wooden doors, following him to his seat, in the back corner. He looked at the sea of heads. The demographic of the audience was made up of elderly people, however, some families dotted the pews, children with cuddly toys keeping them company. The organ started to play an unknown song, echoes bouncing through the church, and everybody stood. Everybody except a tall lanky British teenager with a house on his arm. A priest walked past Newt’s row in a procession, of children who were part of a ‘communion group’, words that were religious jargons, that didn’t quite fit in his mouth. He would take ‘shank’ over ‘communion’ any day.   
Newt listened to the words of the priest. Despite his love of English, he didn’t understand most of what the priest was saying. He could hear the hope in his voice, and the voices of the congregation, when the prayed and when they sang. He felt at peace. Relaxed. And, just as suddenly as it began, it ended. People picking up books and handbags, making their way to the doors. Newt didn’t move, he sat in the emptying church. He didn’t know how he felt. He was confused and scared. A soft finger brushed his shoulder, startling him. A girl with short hair looked down at him, a gold nose ring making her stand out from the rest of the church population.   
“Hey, you alright? Like, you seem sad?” Newt stared at the girl. She wore a black denim jacket with a patch covering her back with ‘Girl Gang’ embroidered onto it. “I’m Brenda, weird name I know.” She smiled. “What’s yours?”   
“Name’s Newt”. He noticed his hard London accent contrasting the girls soft American voice.   
“Guess you win on the weird name front,” she smiled. She had a nice smile, Tommy’s was nicer though. His heart skipped as the thought rushed through his mind.   
“Anyways, what are you doing in here? I haven’t seen you around here before?” Brenda was looking at Newt, with serenity, and he decided that he liked this girl, he trusted her.   
“I’ve never been before, apparently it helps people figure things out. Jack happened though, feel exactly the same as I did when I walked in.” Still depressed, Still scared about the future, still worried about Minho. Newt stood up, pushing back his fringe, and walked towards the doors.   
“You giving up that easy? You didn’t strike me as the type.”  
“Not giving up, I’ll be back next week.”  
“Promise?”  
“I promise,” he said, looking back and smiling.   
Newt began the walk home, headphones in. He took a cigarette out of the packet and a lighter out of his pocket. Newt paused to light his cigarette and continued walking. He felt so alone, he felt so bleak. His heart was flatlining. He couldn’t feel anything and was tired of it. He felt tears well up in his eyes, making his vision go blurry. He wiped his eyes quickly, before walking up the stairs to the flat. His safe haven. Minho and Chuck were working on homework, talking quietly. Gally and Fry were sat on the kitchen counter, cradling coffee cups. Thomas was sat on the floor, with a book open in front of him, while he made notes on his laptop. Newt walked to his room, throwing his coat onto his bed, and then padded to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to boil. Newt absentmindedly rubbed his tattoo, and he felt strong arms wrap around his middle and and a head rest against his back.   
“I need a hug.” He heard Thomas’ muffled voice from in between his shoulder blades. Newt twisted to face Thomas in his arms, and wrapped his arms around Thomas’ neck, pulling him closer. Newt could smell the faint citrus smell of Thomas’ shower gel, with the comforting smell of smoke from the cigarette he had consumed before Newt has gotten home. He closed his eyes. Newt knew he couldn’t stand like this forever, despite how addictive the feeling of security was.he pulled away, his hand stroking his shoulder.  
“I’m here for you Tommy, whatever you need”. Newt received a nod in response. He watched Thomas move slowly towards his bedroom, with an empty mug in his grasp. Newt watched his best friend leave the room, and felt his heart break for him.

It wasn’t until that evening Newt saw Thomas again. He was quiet, sitting on the kitchen counter, legs pulled up to his chest. Newt still couldn't figure out what was wrong. Thomas was usually so upbeat, even when he wasn’t feeling as happy as he said he did. Newt touched his best friend lightly, the sudden contact making Thomas jump. They sat together, in the fortress they had built out of kitchen cupboards and something that felt a lot like family when you run your fingers through it.  
“Hey Newt, what did you learn when you went to church?” Thomas’ voice came out as barely a whisper, the vocal cords unaccustomed to carry out their function after hours in silence. Newt froze. He hadn’t told anyone about his experience that morning, simply out of fear about the reaction he would receive from his friends. Not that he had many. All his friends fit comfortably in student accomodation, with a bedroom each and very little arguments on who got to use the bathroom first in the morning.  
“I didn’t really learn anything. I just wanted to try it out, just to see what all the fuss is about.”  
“Oh okay, I need to tell you something later. Not now cause I don’t want everyone to find out just yet, but I wanted to tell you.”  
“Hey, don’t stress. You can tell me.’  
Newt stared at his best friend. He could see conflict in his eyes, a face contorted by fear. It was gonna be painful for Thomas to share. Newt bit his lip. He didn’t know how to help. Newt always felt pointless, like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t make other people happy. Maybe it was a two way thing, Newt thought, he couldn’t make other people happy because other people couldn’t make him happy. Newt looked down, ashamed of the thoughts racing around his head, like a black cloud on caffeine.  
“Come into my room when everyone is asleep. I think this calls for coffee and a cig under the stars for this conversation.” Newt smiled, trying to put any positivity he could possibly find in the small apartment into his voice. Despite how fake it felt, Newt could feel the confidence fill Thomas’ lungs. His back visibly straightened. Newt smiled, the phrase ‘fake it till you make it’ really was a charm.

It was almost midnight when Thomas padded into Newts room. He wore a baggy shirt and pyjama shorts. Newt could feel his breath catch in his throat. Self-conscious, Newt looked out the window and regulated his breaths. Thomas joined Newt on his windowsill, legs touching slighty. Newt picked up the cigarette packet while Thomas placed the two mugs down on the desk in front of them. Unfinished essays and poems littered the oak surface, with coffee rings on all of them. Newt smiled as he watched Thomas try and work out where to put them.  
“So what’s up?” Newt broke the ice, after Thomas had given up on his quest to find a suitible surface to put the mugs on and handed Newt his drink, cradling his own to his chest.  
“I don’t know, but there’s something different about me. I mean, I feel like the others wouldn’t get it, and you’re my best friend so maybe we could keep this a secret?  
“Dude of course, you can tell me anything.” Newt watched Thomas, smoke curling out of his mouth. He noticed the small mole on his cheek, the dimples he gott when he smiled. No, he couldn’t think about that now. This was Tommy’s time to talk. Newt shouldn’t be distracted.  
“I think I like boys. Like, more than friends.” Thomas was pale, voice shaking. Newt couldn’t help but think about how many times it had done that over the past few days. Thomas took a shaky breath and the continued. “More specifically, you”

That was when Newt’s world fell apart around him. He could feel the the silence, roaring in his ears, fear pulsing through his arteries. He took a deep breath. Newt looked over at Thomas, taking his hand and stroking his knuckles with his thumb.  
“I actually get it. I have been feeling the same, about you.” Newt looked down at a particularly interesting coffee stain on his carpet. “I have been too scared to say anything though. But i don’t want you to change how you think of me, I’m still the same person.”  
“The same person I fell in love with?”  
“Wait, you really mean it?”  
“Yeah Newt, I mean it. You were the first person I fell in love with.” Newt stared at his best friend. How could he not have noticed? It wasn’t like he had been trying to hide the same thing. He took a drag from his cigarette, noticing the unique things that littered Thomas’ face. The tiny scar under his lip, the different colours in his eyes, the freckles that lined his nose. He took a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to happen. He leaned forward and tilted his head. He gently kissed the corner of Thomas’ mouth, which in turn reciprocated the movement. It was wonderful and scary, all in the same moment. Newt couldn’t think of a better way to end the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow that took too long to update, college is crazy, my tumblr is poeticxllypxthetic so if you want to suggest what happens next feel free to send an ask!

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of an ongoing fic, the chapters are quite short but I hope you enjoy!


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